“The man must be either a villain, or the girl a fool: is that it?”
“Christine!”
“Raoul, why do you condemn a man whom you have never seen, whom no one knows and about whom you yourself know nothing?”
“Yes, Christine. … Yes. … I at least know the name that you thought to keep from me forever. … The name of your Angel of Music, mademoiselle, is Erik!”
Christine at once betrayed herself. She turned as white as a sheet and stammered:
“Who told you?”
“You yourself!”
“How do you mean?”
“By pitying him the other night, the night of the masked ball. When you went to your